


Video Games

by closethobbyist



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closethobbyist/pseuds/closethobbyist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor goes to Oliver's for dinner. A bet is made, the winner being the victor of a video game match. Friskiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Special Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER** : I know almost nothing about fanfiction — HTGAWM is the first show I’ve been obsessed enough with to actually bother reading fanfic for — and I’m no writer. I’m just a fellow fan of the show whose life is being consumed by any and all things Coliver.
> 
>  **Fic context** : This little ditty is inspired by a tweet posted by Jack Falahee on 10/10/14: _I’ve gone 9 days with no internet at new place. 9 days without league :( :’( #LeagueOfLegends._ (For those who don’t know, League of Legends is a popular online game.)

Connor sighed as he absentmindedly flipped through one of the countless case files Professor Keating had the group — now known as the  _Keating Five_ — going through for their latest assignment. The case was a joke. (It had, however, taught him a skill he hadn't previously considered so valuable: internal eye-rolling.) The only sounds in the room were those of pens scribbling and pages turning.

Connor's eyes glazed over and his head slowly began to dip, chin almost at his chest.

He started when Michaela cleared her throat pointedly, turning to shoot her a withering look. Laurel let out a quiet laugh while Asher gave him a thumbs up. Connor blinked slowly.

He lazily surveyed the room. Dozens of boxes littered Keating’s study, each practically spilling over with reams of paper. The desk he was sitting at didn’t even have room for a cup of coffee, which was something he desperately needed. Connor buried his head in the crook of his elbow, let out a quiet groan, and exhaled deeply.

What jolted him out of his daze was something he wouldn’t care to admit. To anyone. The staccato buzz in his pocket made him catch his breath, and his pulse climbed ever so slightly. As coolly as he could manage, he retrieved his phone and glanced at the screen.

 _Were you thinking of coming over tonight? I needa know whether to make some extra sauce for dinner_.

Connor read the message over a few times, trying to ignore how pleased he was that it was from Oliver.

Who was _not_ his boyfriend, if anyone cared to know.

Another buzz _._ _If not, I don’t mind. Just gimme a heads up._

A smirk played about Connor’s face as he contemplated his response. He was surprised that he actually _wanted_ to go to Oliver’s for what seemed suspiciously like a date.

The screen lit up a third time. _Of course, I’d love it if you came over, but you don’t have to. No pressure or anything. But I’m making my special spaghetti, just so you know._

He must’ve been smiling without realizing it because when he looked up, he was met with Michaela’s smug grin.

“Chatting with the boyfriend?” she taunted, knowing how he despised that term.

Connor grimaced. No retort came to mind, no witty comeback. He silently cursed Oliver for turning his brain to mush in these dire times.

“Leave him alone,” Laurel chided.

Connor shot her a grateful look he hoped the others didn’t notice.

“Although,” she continued, a teasing smile beginning to take hold of her features, “you _did_ just have the dopiest look on your face.”

Connor scoffed. He turned his attention back to his phone, making a conscious effort to maintain a bored expression. Fingers fumbling over the keyboard, he sent a quick reply.

_I’ll be there._

  

* * *

 

Connor craned his neck to get a better visual in the rearview mirror, straightening his tie.

_When did it get so goddamn hot in here?_

Glancing at his watch, he saw that he’d been sitting in his car for nearly ten minutes. He grumbled as he swiftly combed his fingers through his hair one last time, checked his teeth for any lunchtime remnants, and reminded himself that if he fussed any longer, he’d be late and Oliver would be irritated.

_Which would be kind of cute._

Connor shook his head, banishing the image of Oliver’s adorably furrowed brow from his mind.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, he grabbed the bouquet he’d hastily purchased on his way over and got out of the car. Were they hyacinths? Hydrangeas? He couldn’t recall what the lady had said, but he wasn't worried — he knew Oliver would love them regardless. The IT whiz was a sap for romantic stuff like that.

Closing the door, he allowed himself a sharp exhale before he marched over to the apartment building’s entrance. 

\---

Connor pressed the third floor button and closed his eyes. _What’s the matter with you, Walsh? Oliver’s just another guy._ The halfhearted attempt at self-deception did nothing to calm his nerves.

The quiet _ding_ of the elevator finally sounded after what felt like hours, and Connor breathed a small sigh of relief as he stepped out into the hallway. He strode purposefully toward unit 303, ignoring the sensation in the pit of his stomach that was lately becoming all too familiar.

 _Butterflies?_ he thought. _What a stupid term. There’s nothing happy and pleasant about this. I feel nauseous._

He stopped in front of his not-boyfriend’s door, annoyed that his heart had decided that this was an appropriate time to freak out. He briefly toyed with the idea of turning around and simply going home; he could easily make up an excuse about work dragging on and he knew Oliver would let it slide. Connor frowned, wondering why Oliver was still interested him, considering all the flaking and the insistence that a relationship wasn’t what he was looking for.

He felt like an idiot, standing there with flowers in hand. Connor Walsh didn’t _do_ flowers.

 _Screw it._ He rapped briskly on the door, ignoring the sudden urge to turn and hightail it out of there. He barely had time to reset his expression to a cool nonchalance when the door opened.

Oliver’s eyes lit up when he saw the flowers. “Hi!” he beamed.

“Hey, Oliver,” came Connor’s reply, a little more tremulous than he would’ve liked. He held up the flowers dumbly. “For you.”

Still grinning, Oliver reached for the flowers with one hand and grabbed Connor’s with the other, leading him inside. The law student wasn’t usually one to let others take charge of situations, but there was something about Oliver’s smile that made him melt.

Connor watched as Oliver set the bouquet in an empty vase and carefully placed it on the counter, a small smile playing about his lips all the while.

“I love them, Connor. Thank you. And…”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“I know—” Oliver mumbled, “I know you usually don’t do this kind of… _thing_. Flowers, date night…”

Connor grunted in reply, unsure of how else to respond. He wasn’t used to being at a loss for words.

Oliver headed toward the dinner table and shyly beckoned. Then he busied himself with pouring wine into their glasses, having already portioned the food a few minutes prior.

Sauntering over, Connor decided it was time for some fun. “Smells delicious,” he mentioned casually, knowing full well the effect the simple compliment would have.

Oliver turned with a sheepish look on his face. “Thanks.” A subtle pink crept into his cheeks.

Connor smirked as they sat down. He continued to prod, leaning over the table and making a show of giving the other man a decidedly lustful once-over. “You look _hot_ ,” he purred, his mischievous smile only widening as Oliver flushed and adjusted his glasses reflexively. It was nice to go from being a nervous wreck to holding all the cards.

“I’m wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants,” Oliver muttered, “and you’re in a _suit_. Maybe I should’ve changed…”

“I find it sexy,” Connor stated matter-of-factly.

Oliver refused to look up, hiding behind his glass of wine. He sipped.

And sipped.

“If you’re trying to get me drunk,” Connor teased, taking a few sips of his own glass, “I’m perfectly okay with that.”

Oliver pouted. “Just shut up and eat your food.”

Connor obliged and brought a forkful of pasta to his mouth, not breaking eye contact with Oliver’s expectant face as he leisurely chewed and swallowed. He licked his lips slowly, a satisfied sound escaping his mouth that Oliver could swear was a moan.

Oliver pretended he didn’t notice. “The red wine sauce alone had to simmer for three hours,” he began, chancing a peek at Connor, “and the…”

“And the _what?”_ inquired Connor, a wicked smile beginning to form.

Oliver furrowed his brow in protest, an image the law student made a mental note to savour. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Connor’s eyes were wide, the picture of innocence. "Like  _what?"_

Oliver looked down and twirled his fork abashedly, his expression caught halfway between a frown and a smile.

Connor found it irresistible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & (especially) comments appreciated!
> 
> ALSO I WROTE THIS SECTION BEFORE EP7 CAME OUT WHEN CONNOR WENT TO OLIVER'S PLACE TO GIVE HIM FLOWERS SO YOU DON'T REALIZE HOW ASLDKJSDGFLHSKL I AM THAT HE ACTUALLY DID IT ;w;


	2. You Up for a Bet?

Oliver took a seat at his desk and fired up his laptop. “I’ve got to finish up something really quick for work, and then we can do whatever.”

Connor smiled, a devilish glint in his eye. “ _Whatever?”_

Oliver snorted, trying his damnedest to stand his ground as Connor leaned in and began to nibble at his neck. “I really…” he trailed, eyes closing and head rolling back, “… need to…”

Connor ignored Oliver’s gentle pleas, letting out a soft growl as his hands wandered underneath the other man’s shirt. His kisses stopped abruptly as his wrists were immobilized by Oliver’s surprisingly steady grip.

“It’ll just be fifteen minutes, I swear.”

Connor pouted and left, plopping onto the living room sofa. He spent a minute or two glaring at Oliver, who was too engrossed in his work to take notice. (Which was probably for the best, because it wasn’t so much glaring as it was dreamily admiring.) The quiet _clack_ of the keys and the way Oliver bit his lip when he ran into a particularly stubborn problem were things he’d come to find strangely soothing.

A few months ago, if someone had told Connor that a bespectacled IT worker who wore Star Wars pajamas and did the crossword every morning would send his heart into overdrive, he would’ve laughed till he passed out. Connor was self-aware enough to admit that their arrangement had started off as just that — an _arrangement_ — but as their relationship progressed, he was caught off guard by how much he found himself wanting more. _Craving_ more.

Connor paced around awhile before heading back to the desk, nestling his chin on Oliver’s shoulder. He nuzzled the other man’s neck, figuring that would do the trick. Sweet stuff like this usually made Oliver ridiculously amenable.

The IT whiz’s fingers faltered over the keys for a moment, mouth parting almost imperceptibly.

 _Almost_ imperceptibly. Connor noticed. He could smell victory. He continued to nuzzle his not-boyfriend affectionately, suppressing a smirk as he let out a warm sigh of contentment. He almost felt guilty about how easy it was to flip the guy’s switch.

Oliver turned to place a gentle kiss on Connor’s cheek. “Five more minutes,” he murmured patiently.

Connor let out a quiet _hmph_ and wandered back to the sofa, more miffed about the fact that his usual tricks failed than about work being chosen over him. And when was it that a simple kiss could placate him? He scowled, quickly driving the thought away.

Oliver’s apartment was filled with things Connor could distract himself with, but after a few months of testosterone-driven late night visits and impromptu sleepovers, he was used to some of the more entertaining and endearingly nerdy things lying around, like the Darth Vader piggy bank and the dozens of crossword books.

Connor sighed and lay down. He was just about resolved to take a nap — _let’s see how Oliver likes being denied sex!_ — when a faint, blinking green light caught his attention. He sat up eyed the light, squinting. A slow smile spread across his face, and not his trademarked smirk, but a wide, boyish grin.

He ambled over to the shelf beneath Oliver’s television (which was, like every piece of technology in the man’s apartment, one of the latest models), a wave of nostalgia flowing through him. He sat cross-legged in front of the blinking Xbox, a small voice in the back of his head telling him to stop smiling lest Oliver catch a glimpse of his dopey expression.

Connor reached for the shelf and began to browse Oliver’s expansive video game library. _I knew he was dorky, but I didn’t know he was into video games, too_. He flipped through the volumes, stopping when he came across a familiar title. _I can't believe I didn't notice this stuff before._ He paused, smirking to himself. _Well, I guess we do spend most of our time in the bedroom._  He ejected the game that was currently inside the console and popped in the one he’d chosen.

The familiar sounds of the Xbox start-up animation sequence made Oliver’s ears prick. He glanced over at Connor, doing a double take when he saw the law student sitting on the edge of the couch, controller in hand. Eyebrow raised, he let out a quiet cough.

Connor looked over and was met with Oliver’s incredulous stare. He beamed innocently. “Almost done with that?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Is that… are you…?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Oliver’s disbelief gave way to intrigue. “I’m just finishing up, gimme a sec.”

Connor made his way back to the console to plug in a second controller. A strange warmth spread through his chest as he placed it on the sofa next to him. He tried to ignore it.

“So,” Oliver ventured as he made his way over, “you know how to play video games?”

Connor snorted _._ “I’m a dude. Of course I’ve played video games.”

Oliver’s eyes were apologetic as he sat down and Connor immediately regretted the sarcasm.

Connor leaned into Oliver and softly kissed his neck. “I haven’t even _heard_ of half the games you have,” he said gently in between kisses, “but I know a thing or two about _Guns & Warfare_.”

Oliver smiled shyly and even in the low light Connor could see him blush.

Expertly navigating through the various menus, Connor had them in a lobby in no time. He turned to face the other man and gazed at him tenderly. “You any good at this game?”

“I— I’m okay, I guess.” Oliver adjusted his glasses and looked at the controller in his lap. It was hard to maintain eye contact when Connor was smoldering like that. “Okay, fine. I’m pretty good.”

Connor barked out a short laugh. “That’s what I expected.”

The game had just begun to load when Oliver had an idea. He figured he should take advantage of any and all situations where he had the upper hand — god knows there weren’t many. “You up for a bet?”

“Yes.”

He smiled at Connor’s immediate reply. “If I end up with the higher score…” He bit his lip. “Then you have to tell me some stuff about... when you were a kid.”

Connor froze for a split second — so quickly did his confident smirk reappear that Oliver thought he might be seeing things.

Every time Oliver so much as hinted about wanting to know more about Connor’s family or his past, the law student would close up. It even turned him off of sex, which was something that nothing else Oliver knew of could do. (The man had even insisted on sex when he was down with the flu last month, body aching and head pounding with continuous migraines. Oliver had had to practically restrain Connor to the bed and force-feed him chicken noodle soup and Advil for three days. They’d both requested to work from home, but ended up cuddling for most of the time. Sick Connor was surprisingly cuddly.)

“Fine,” Connor replied coolly.

Oliver’s heart did a somersault.

“But if _I_ win, then…”

Oliver’s pulse quickened.

“…you come to dinner with me and the others this weekend.”

Oliver’s confusion was apparent in his expression. Wasn’t it he, after all, who’d proposed that very idea only two weeks ago? He looked at Connor quizzically, who offered a smile in place of an explanation. And not one of those confident smirks that made Oliver weak in the knees, but a warm — almost… _loving?_ — smile that made the butterflies in his stomach spread to his chest.

“Deal,” said Oliver happily. And then he thought he ought to specify the terms of their bet; he was, after all, dealing with a lawyer. “I get to ask ten questions.”

“Five,” said Connor lazily.

“Um—” Oliver blinked. “Eight…?”

“Six.”

Oliver refused to go down easily. “Nine,” he said, as confidently as he could.

Connor looked over at Oliver, amusement dancing in his eyes. He smiled his crooked smile and leaned in close, mouth slightly open and lips almost brushing the other man’s. “Nine?” he breathed.

“You… you can’t—”

Connor’s roguish smile widened. “Hm?”

“—not fair.”

Connor chuckled.

“I forg— wh-what did I say? Five…?”

“Deal.”

Oliver closed his eyes and gave his head a quick shake. He’d discovered early on that breaking eye contact and sudden movements helped him snap out of the haze he often found himself in when Connor got too close.

When he looked up he was met with Connor’s lips. They kissed slowly, Connor reaching up to cup Oliver’s cheek.

Despite the fact that his stomach was filled with butterflies and his heart was thumping like shoes in a dryer, Oliver was mildly irritated. “You can’t just go around doing that to people,” he pouted.

Connor laughed. “You’d make a terrible lawyer, by the way. Horrible negotiator.”

“I’m pretty sure distracting other lawyers by making out with them is illegal.”

“Not outside of court it isn’t,” Connor teased with an impish grin.

“Not funny.”

“Kidding.” Connor placed a tender kiss on Oliver’s cheek. “I only have eyes for you.”

Oliver froze, as he was wont to do whenever his not-boyfriend said decidedly _boyfriend-ish_ things like that. He paused mid-breath, waiting for Connor to say something more that would diminish the utterly relationship-worthy comment.

Nothing more came.

_He says he doesn’t want to be in a relationship… He says he isn’t my boyfriend and I’m not his. And yet… How many times has he spent the night just this week? I don’t remember sleeping alone since last Thursday, and he even did his laundry here for the first time a few nights ago…_

The sound of buttons being mashed jerked Oliver out of his reverie.

“That’s one-zero for me, and it’s only been eleven seconds!”

The bastard had gotten a head start while Oliver was distracted. “Not fair,” he mumbled as he picked up his controller.

Connor whooped. “Get ready to be _wowed_ by Michaela’s small talk at dinner.”

 _Okay, maybe losing wouldn’t be so bad,_ Oliver thought. _But I’d rather know about Connor's family than have dinner with his workmates… I’m sure that’ll come up again._

_This won’t._

Oliver’s fingers flew deftly over the controls, and it was only a matter of time before he scored his first kill.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & (especially) comments appreciated!


	3. Are You Blushing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN A MONTH AGHHKKHG SORRY I HAD FINALS IN DEC AND I'M A LAZY BUTT HERE'S CHAPTER 3 FINALLY.

The game was fast-paced, and soon Oliver lost track of who was ahead. He wasn’t worried, though. He’d placed first in last year’s IT Department _Guns & Warfare_ pool — and beating a bunch of computer nerds at a video game was a pretty big feat.

Despite the stakes of their agreement, Oliver couldn’t help but be a little distracted by Connor. There was a lot of yelling and cursing on the law student’s part, which Oliver found strangely charming in a boyish sort of way.

 _He was probably like this when he played video games with his younger brother,_ thought Oliver. _Or was it his older brother? Wait… does he even have a brother?_ He frowned. _That’ll be question numero uno._

The rare silences that occurred when Connor wasn’t howling expletives were filled with the sounds of Oliver’s sputtering submachine gun, and occasionally by the distinctive blast of Connor’s sniper rifle.

Oliver’s eyes flashed momentarily to his left as Connor let out a loud groan. The top half of the screen was greyed out, a small timer ticking down from 00:10. Oliver suppressed a smile. He’d hadn’t died yet, and the other man’s mistakes were only ensuring an inevitable outcome. Maybe next time Connor would make a more intelligent wager.

The law student stood up, causing Oliver to glance over curiously. Connor unbuttoned his oxford expertly, a testament to how often he undid his own — and other guys’ — shirts in a hurry. He shrugged it off and hastily undid his belt, shimmying out of his slacks in an almost comical fashion. He clearly didn’t want to waste a single second after his death timer ran up.

Oliver’s glance had turned into a gaze, which had turned into a stare.

Connor wore a dark grey t-shirt underneath his button-up, and Oliver thought about how soft it looked. And about how much better it would look on the floor. His eyes wandered lower and he smiled at the sight of Connor’s customary black trunks. He wondered how much longer they’d be on. A familiar heat pooled in his abdomen and a different, albeit equally familiar, heat spread through his cheeks.

Oliver quickly shifted his gaze to the screen as Connor sat back down. He was facing forward but his eyes were glassy; he was still lost in thought, imagining what might happen later tonight. What would _definitely_ happen later tonight. _Maybe he’ll do that thing with his tongue again_ …

Oliver was snapped out of his reverie by Connor’s elbow.

“Dude,” said Connor, “your timer’s up.” He stared at Oliver curiously. “Are you trying to _let_ me win?”

“Huh?” Oliver blinked. _Oh._ He hadn’t noticed he’d been sniped while he was admiring Connor strip down.

Connor squinted. “Are you… _blushing?”_

“Wh-what?” Oliver turned away. “No.”

Connor leaned into Oliver, a ghost of a crooked smirk on his lips.

Oliver knew the law student was well aware of the effect that his devilish smile had — _damn him_. He tried to appear unfazed despite his skyrocketing pulse. Connor could hear his heart beating, he could swear.

Connor’s eyes lit up as he purred, “Am I really _that_ distracting?”

Oliver refused to look away from the screen. _Just focus. Ignore his dumb face. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb smirk. Dumb voice. Dumb stubble. Dumb…_

Oliver attempted to gun down an enemy while jumping from a second story window — a move he considered quite rudimentary — but failed miserably. His bullet-ridden character flopped onto the floor pathetically. His screen greyed out and the death timer began to tick.

He had no choice but to acknowledge Connor now.

“I’m flattered,” Connor continued to tease, still sporting his crooked smirk. “Fully clothed and I can still get you to blush.” He looked down at his trunks. “Okay,” he conceded. _“Almost_ fully clothed.”

Oliver snorted. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“You love it,” Connor grinned. “By the way, your timer’s up. In case you didn’t notice. Again.”

Oliver ignored Connor’s ribbing. _He’d_ be the one laughing when the scoreboard was displayed in the post-match lobby. He gave his head a good shake and inhaled deeply, determined to get back in the zone.

\---

The game continued, and soon the apartment was once more filled with the sounds of gunfire and of Connor cheering and cursing with an uncharacteristic abandon.

Oliver couldn’t help but smile, casting a few surreptitious looks to his left whenever he felt he could. The way Connor was grinning and shouting was something he rarely got to see; the law student was usually the definition of cool, calm, and collected. This was different, it was open. And Oliver liked it. He was sure that his lingering glances cost him a couple kills and a death or two, but not like it mattered.

He was going to win.

Connor whooped after successfully sniping an enemy from across the map, lurching forward and letting out a satisfied shout. Dropping back onto the sofa, he scoped out his next victim. If he’d glanced down at the bottom half of the screen, he’d have seen that Oliver’s character wasn’t moving at all. But he didn’t look down, and so he didn’t notice.

Oliver was frozen.

Connor’s little mini-celebration had repositioned him on the sofa: while before the two had been sitting a few inches apart, now there was no space between them at all. Their thighs touched, and Oliver could feel the vibration of Connor’s fingers on the controller through the contact of their shoulders. His skin was tingling and he could swear that the part of his arm where his skin was touching Connor’s was on fire.

It was _electric_.

(It wasn’t simply the physical contact that was making Oliver’s head spin, it was the intimacy of it all. Connor wasn’t one to kiss when it wasn’t a precursor to sex, he wasn’t one to cuddle except during the afterglow. They didn’t even _hug_ that often, and they’d been seeing each other for months now. Physical intimacy apart from sex was something that Oliver craved but never brought up because he didn’t want to scare Connor off, and he never tried to initiate it because he didn’t want to seem needy. Casual contact like this was something Oliver wanted — badly. An arm around his shoulders when they were watching a movie, a chest to fall asleep on after a long day at work, a hand to hold _just because_.)

Oliver was content to revel in the contact for the remaining minute or so of the match, scoring only one additional kill because he was paying more attention to the warmth on his left than the game.

“VICTORY” flashed across the screen, and the final kill was replayed for all to see: a frag grenade exploded a fraction of a second before the timer hit zero, taking out one of the enemy players. The name above the soldier read [IT_Ollie GUEST].

Connor.

Oliver turned and Connor was grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see that?” he said excitedly. “Tried to time it so I’d get the replay clip.” He looked down, embarrassed. “For some reason I thought that would impress you.” He furrowed his brow.

Now Oliver was the one grinning. “I _am_ impressed,” he said, elated that Connor hadn’t moved an inch despite how close they’d gotten. Oliver could hear Connor’s voice in his head: _dangerously domestic_ , he’d call it.

Connor was looking at the screen now, laughing. The endgame scoreboard had appeared.

[IT_Ollie]: 21/4/6. Oliver smiled and perused the enemy team’s stats, the highest being [FiretruckFr3d] at 17/6/7.

Oliver turned to Connor with a triumphant look on his face. He was expecting to see the man pouting, but was met with a satisfied smirk. He whipped his head back to the screen and squinted.

[IT_Ollie GUEST]: 32/3/8.

Oliver’s shoulders dropped. He turned back to Connor, who was beaming.

“Looks like I win!” he exclaimed — a little too gleefully for Connor Walsh.

Oliver grumbled. “Not fair,” he complained, crossing his arms. “I was distracted by your… _you.”_

“Saturday night,” Connor declared. “I’ll pick you up at seven. They’re gonna love you.”

Oliver couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at Connor’s enthusiasm. He uncrossed his arms.

Connor reached down to grab his pants from the floor, retrieving his phone from the pocket. A small smile played about his lips as he quickly tapped out a message. “There,” he proclaimed. “Now you can’t back out of it.”

A light bulb lit up in Oliver’s head. He was more surprised than upset that he’d lost the game, and Connor’s condition was something that _he_ wanted as well… but there was still something he could do to sweeten the deal. Plus, now he had a rare opportunity to tease Connor, something that almost always happened the other way around.

Connor raised an eyebrow at Oliver’s suddenly mischievous expression. “… What?”

Oliver bit his lip playfully. “I’ll mention how you got me to come.” He set his controller down and slowly began to lean in closer to the other man.

Connor’s confused expression gave way to dread as it dawned on him.

Oliver crept a little closer. “Who knew _Connor Walsh_ was such a video game nerd?”

The law student opened his mouth to fire off a scathing retort but nothing came.

Oliver smiled. “It’s kind of hot, actually,” he teased. His hands roamed underneath Connor’s t-shirt as he placed gentle kisses along the side of Connor’s neck.

“I— I’m _not_ a video game nerd…” Connor trailed as Oliver gently tugged at the grey fabric, exposing his torso. “It’s just— I’m…” He swallowed.

Oliver was practically on top of Connor now, who’d been slowly leaning back while sputtering his denials. “Really,” Oliver murmured as he peppered Connor’s jawline with kisses, “you don’t have to be embarrassed. _I find it sexy_.” With sure hands, he lifted the law student’s shirt past his outstretched arms and flung it onto the floor.

Connor watched, wide-eyed, as Oliver removed his own shirt. He dropped the remaining few inches onto the couch.

Oliver followed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points to those who noticed how Oliver used Connor's own words against him at the end there ("I find it sexy" from the first chapter)!!!1one
> 
> Kudos & (especially) comments appreciated!


	4. Somebody Wants It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh DANGIT sorry it's been a month but i've been busy doing absolutely nothing with my life HERE YA GO. 
> 
> **WARNING** : THIS CHAPTER IS PRETTY PWP AND IS TOTALLY SELF-INDULGENT (but dw it gets sweet at the end!) HA HA I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE STEAMY COLIVER ACTION AS MUCH AS I DO HA HA ha ha haimsosexuallyfrustrated

Connor let out a soft moan as Oliver placed what had to be the dozenth rough kiss on the side of his neck. A faint voice in the back of his mind was concerned about what the others would think when they saw the mark that would inevitably be there tomorrow morning, but he shooed it away with ease, preferring instead to focus on the warmth of Oliver’s chest on his own.

 _Let them see it,_ he thought wryly. _Wouldn't be the first time._

Oliver placed a quick yet forceful kiss on Connor’s lips before resuming on the other side of his neck.

 _And it won’t be the last_.

Lifting his arms from his sides, Connor let one hand roam through Oliver’s hair while the other explored the contours of his shoulders _._ He pulled down at Oliver’s waist and reflexively arched his back, the space between their bodies becoming nearly nonexistent.

Connor sighed as Oliver worked his way down from his neck, leaving a trail of rough kisses that made his heart race and the pressure in his trunks nearly painful.

And suddenly the heat from Oliver’s lips was gone.

Connor let out an involuntary whine and quickly shut his mouth in embarrassment. _Oh dear fucking god, please let him not have heard that._

If Oliver did, he didn’t show it. He was fumbling with the drawstring on his sweatpants, eager to get back to what he was doing. He caught Connor’s gaze and smiled sheepishly as he pulled at the waistband and began to slide them off.

Connor couldn’t help but grin. “Shy about taking off your pants even though I’ve seen you naked a hundred times.”

Oliver snorted. “Really? A _hundred?”_ And then he paused for a second, realizing that a hundred was probably being conservative. Some days they _really_ went at it.

Connor smirked and tugged at the fabric pooled at Oliver’s knees impatiently. “Hurry up.”

 _“Somebody_ wants it,” Oliver laughed, balling up up his sweatpants and throwing them onto the pile of clothes that had accumulated on the floor.

Connor rolled his eyes.

“Can you make that sound again?”

“Huh?”

Oliver’s eyes glinted playfully. “The one you made when I stopped kissing you.”

Connor groaned and closed his eyes. _Shit._ He detested the unfamiliar sensation of the heat that began to spread through his face. How could something so horrible be so irresistible on someone else?

Oliver placed his hands on Connor’s cheeks and smiled warmly. “I like it when you blush.”

Connor frowned, twisting so that his face was pressed against Oliver’s palm.

“It’s—” Oliver placed a soft kiss on Connor’s exposed cheek “—a nice change of pace.”

“Lfbth mm ahwn.”

Another kiss.

Connor turned back to face Oliver, still scowling. “Leave me alone.”

Oliver grinned as he leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on the law student's frown.

They stared at each other in silence, Oliver beaming and Connor glowering.

Connor was the first to break. “Your smile—”

Oliver pressed his lips against Connor’s, pulling away to rest his forehead on the other man’s.

“—is dumb.”

“Okay,” conceded Oliver as he leaned back in.

 

Their lips moved together, slowly at first, a rhythm gradually building that only experience could grant. Soon it was purely lustful passion that drove them.

Oliver’s left hand was tangled in Connor’s hair, his right at the small of his back in a futile attempt to bring their bodies even closer together. He pushed a leg up between Connor’s and let out a groan against the law student’s lips at the pressure he felt.

 _“Fuck,_ Oliver. _”_

Making his way back down to Connor’s neck, Oliver pressed a little harder.

Connor let out a satisfied moan that was a little louder than it needed to be, ignoring Oliver’s plea to _keep it down or else the neighbours are gonna freak._ He moved his hands from Oliver’s shoulders down to his waist, making sure to enjoy every ridge along the way, and impatiently tugged at Oliver’s boxers.

Oliver ceased his ministrations and pulled away from Connor, which earned him an irritated grunt.

“I’m dying here, Oliver.”

“You first.” Oliver deftly hooked his fingers around the waistband of Connor’s trunks and pulled. “Holy _shit.”_

“Don’t go drooling on it now,” Connor snorted, guiding his underwear past his legs and tossing them behind his head. “Now you. C’mere.”

Oliver scooted his knees forward and brought himself closer to Connor, staring down all the while. He barely noticed when his own underwear was yanked off.

“Jesus, Ollie,” breathed Connor. “Who woulda thought a shy IT guy like you could be so— _oh, fuck.”_

Connor threw his head back and groaned loudly as Oliver enveloped him in wetness and warmth. He gently rocked his hips forward and had to restrain himself from placing a hand on the back of Oliver’s head. He clenched his fists at his sides and continued to toss his head back and forth, moaning Oliver’s name along with every kind of expletive.

Oliver couldn’t care less about the neighbours at this point. The sounds coming out of Connor’s mouth and the way he was squirming about fuelled his fervour until he had only one thought, one desire, one need that drove him: _Connor_.

Early on in their relationship Oliver had learned that Connor liked it fast and hard and rough — and so fast and hard and rough he gave it. His hands were vices on Connor’s thighs as his lips made their way up and down Connor’s length, tongue sliding across the tip at every opportunity.

“Ol… Oli— _verr_ … Fu— _fuck_ , slow down, I—”

With one last drag of his tongue along Connor’s length, Oliver pulled back and grabbed hold of it. He stroked slowly as he leaned up to kiss Connor.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Connor panted against Oliver’s lips, “but the student has become the master.”

Oliver pulled back and rolled his eyes, trying his damnedest not to laugh. “That was, what? A minute? Two? Five more seconds and you woulda—”

Connor silenced him with a rough kiss. He gazed up at Oliver from under his lashes and smirked. “Take it as a compliment.”

Oliver returned the kiss, just as rough.

As their tongues fought for dominance, Oliver wrapped his fingers around Connor’s length, eliciting a throaty growl. Connor ran his hands through Oliver’s hair and up and down his back, a desperation in his movements borne of passion. It wasn’t long before Connor pulled away from Oliver, breathless.

And then, in a low voice: “Fuck me.”

Lustful ardour still in complete control, Oliver’s eyes widened for only a moment before he obliged. He stood up and got off the sofa, ignoring the needy whine that escaped Connor’s lips. Hooking one arm around Connor’s neck and the other around his legs, he lifted the law student up and headed for the bedroom.

Connor tried to ignore how ridiculously _unsexy_ he felt right now. He swung his legs gently in silent protest, and let out a soft _oof_ as he was plopped rather unceremoniously onto the bed. The embarrassment didn’t last long.

Oliver grabbed Connor's ankles and pulled him to the edge of the bed. Cool hands placed underneath Connor's thighs, he lifted the law student's legs upward as he knelt on his bedside rug, making for his objective.

Connor’s breath hitched at the sensation of Oliver’s tongue, his mouth agape in a noiseless moan. He needed something — _anything_ — to distract from the urge to finish himself off, so he grabbed the sheets tightly, knuckles quickly whitening from the strain.

Oliver continued for as long as he could until he reached his breaking point. Seeing Connor’s fists balled up like that signalled that the other man was in a similar state, and he all but jumped up onto the bed to join him. Leaning over Connor, Oliver hastily reached for the bottle of lube at the bedside table. He clumsily uncapped it and was about to squeeze a dollop of the stuff into his palm when Connor swatted his hand away.

“Let me.” Connor sat up and took the bottle, squirting the gel onto his hand. He looked up at Oliver from under his lashes, a devilish glint in his eyes and a smirk dancing about his lips.

Oliver shuddered as Connor coated his length in the cool substance, hand slowly making its way from base to tip and then back again. And again.

“Co— Connor, I think that’s good.”

And again.

“Conn— _nmff_ …”

 _“Fuck,_ Oliver.” Connor’s eyes were dark with lust. “You have no idea how _badly_ —”

Oliver grabbed hold of Connor and their lips crashed together, his tongue hungry and claiming. He let one hand trail down Connor’s back and smiled when the law student’s hips involuntarily bucked forward when his finger found its mark.

Oliver eased Connor down on his back, settling between his legs in a comfortable position. He used one hand to guide himself to Connor’s opening, and interlocked the fingers of his other with Connor’s as he gently pressed forward. He squeezed Connor’s hand reassuringly when the other man let out a quiet gasp, leaning forward to plant a few kisses on his chest. It took all the self control he had not to jerk forward, but soon enough he was fully inside. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation of Connor’s tight warmth.

Connor let out a needy whine and his eyes snapped open to meet Oliver’s, a bashful expression on his face.

Oliver groaned at the sound, letting out a low sigh as he slowly built up a steady rhythm.

Rolling his head from side to side and biting down on his lip, Connor was silent.

“Make that noise again?”

Connor pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut.

Oliver went a little sharp on the return, pressing his hips forward a little further than the last time.

A long moan escape Connor’s mouth.

_Bingo._

Oliver nibbled at Connor’s neck as he continued to quicken his pace.

Another moan, this one louder and somehow more indecent than the last.

“God,” Oliver groaned, “that _sound_ …”

Connor only squeezed Oliver’s hand in response. His other hand made a move to pleasure himself, but Oliver stopped him, fingers encircling his wrist.

“Let me.” Oliver continued his rapid tempo, grasping Connor’s length and, starting slowly at first, built up a speed that was soon in sync with his own rhythm.

Oliver bucked forward harder and faster with every thrust, pressing himself deeper into Connor each time. Soon his movements became jerky with passionate desperation, his grip on Connor nearing a frantic pace.

“Ol— Oliver…” Connor moaned, voice thick. He squeezed Oliver’s hand tightly. “I— I’m gonna…”

Oliver strengthened his grip on Connor’s length, slick with precome, pumping with renewed fervour. The law student let out a loud groan, arching his back reflexively as the thick white liquid shot onto his chest in spurts.

The sight pushed Oliver over the edge.

 _“Connorr…”_ Oliver moaned as he thrust one last time, shuddering as he buried himself in Connor’s warmth. He clutched Connor’s shoulders as he rode out waves of pleasure, eyes closed and brow furrowed intensely.

With a loud sigh, Oliver collapsed on Connor’s chest, breathless.

Only the sounds of panting filled the room, and then:

 _“Fuck,_ Oliver.”

Oliver laughed softly against Connor’s chest.

“No, really,” Connor grinned, blissful. _“Fuck.”_

Oliver lifted himself off of Connor and surveyed the damage. “We, uh… we ought to shower, I think.” He busied himself with looking for the towel he’d set aside earlier, shyly avoiding Connor’s gaze.

“Hey,” breathed Connor.

Oliver looked over and was met with an expression that was uncharacteristically soft. The law student sported his usual smirk, but his eyes were full of warmth.

Connor beckoned with a slight toss of his head. “C’mere.”

Oliver leaned forward and Connor lurched toward him, grabbing the back of his neck and locking him in a surprisingly tender kiss.

He pulled away and Oliver was left wordless and blinking.

Connor laughed, eyes bright. _“Now_ we can shower.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver glanced sidelong as Connor left the bathroom and made for the bed, catching himself as his eyes drifted downward.

 _Jesus, Hampton,_ he scolded himself. _It’s only been twenty minutes — get a hold of yourself._ He gave his head a quick shake and returned his focus to the mirror to finish up his shave. He didn’t think much of the sound of his dresser being opened and closed; it’d already been a week or two since Connor had taken over one of his drawers.

Oliver hummed contentedly as he patted aftershave onto his cheeks and neck. _Who cares if we’re not officially dating? He has a drawer and keeps a toothbrush here and that’s enough._ The frown that crept into his expression belied his true feelings on the matter. He distracted himself by thinking instead of what awaited him in bed.

Of _who_ awaited him in bed.

 

Pillow propped against the headboard, Connor sat on his customary side of the mattress, busily tapping away at his phone.

 _Probably replying to study group emails,_ mused Oliver. He opened his mouth to say something about how Connor was always working, but his breath caught in his throat.

The t-shirt Connor wore wasn’t the dark grey one he’d been sporting earlier in the evening (the one Oliver had relieved him of after their bet), this one was worn and navy blue. Across the chest, faded letters that could barely be made out read _PENN COMPSCI._

Oliver’s old college tee.

Connor continued to tap away as Oliver crawled into bed next to him, beaming.

Oliver trained his face into as neutral an expression as he could manage, trying to ignore the pitter-patter in his chest.

“I’m almost done, Ollie,” murmured Connor.

Oliver settled in and pulled the covers to his ear. “S’fine.” He lay on his side, facing away from Connor so he didn’t have to hide the smile that had returned to his lips.

Last message sent, Connor set his phone on the bedside table and turned off the lamp. He adjusted his pillow and settled under the covers, wrapping an arm over Oliver’s side and pulling himself in close. He kissed the back of Oliver’s neck softly and let out a satisfied sigh.

Oliver counted to ten before he spoke. “So…” he began, voice timid and hopeful. “Is that my shirt you're wearing?”

“Mm? Oh, yeah.”

Oliver swallowed nervously. “You know, for someone who’s intimacy-phobic, wearing the clothes of the person you’re sleeping with is wading pretty close to domestic.”

A pause.

“It’s soft,” offered Connor.

Oliver bit his lip, and then decided to take the risk. “Usually that kind of thing is reserved for boyfriend territory.”

Connor’s embrace loosened ever so slightly. “What’s next — we change our relationship status on Facebook?”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.  _Shit._

He turned around to face Connor with an apology ready on his lips, but stopped when he saw the amusement dancing in Connor’s eyes. And then, something less familiar — apprehension? He squinted, unable to be certain in the low light.

“Okay,” mumbled Connor, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of uncertainty. “Will— uh… _Oliver."_ He cleared his throat. “Oliver, will you…” He coughed. “Will you be my boyfriend?” He frowned, feeling like an absolute idiot.

Oliver grinned, laughing softly.

Connor’s expression went from expectant to confused when Oliver turned so that his back was once again to him.

“Hm,” Oliver began thoughtfully. He reached back and grabbed Connor’s arm, hooking it around his chest and interlocking their fingers. “Let me sleep on it.”

Connor snorted, playfully butting his head into Oliver’s shoulders. He hummed against Oliver's neck as he nuzzled it impatiently.

"Fine," Oliver conceded, revelling in the warmth that flooded his chest. He gave Connor's hand a gentle squeeze. "You can be my boyfriend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos & (especially) comments appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE (03/28/2015): The next chapter's gonna be Connor taking Oliver on a dinner date to meet the Keating Five. Tune in next year when it's finally written. (ha ha i'm the worst)
> 
> UPDATE (04/25/2015): i'm TRASH idk when the next chapter's gonna be written hopefully i get outta this writer's block aaaghhh been busy lately i just GRADUATED (!! i have a b.sc !!) ok ik like 2 people in the world care about this story (one of them being me) but i wanted to update y'all anyway thank you sorry
> 
> UPDATE (05/27/2015): ok i'm extra trash i totally gave up on this project and marked it as complete. maYBE THIS FALL WHEN HTGAWM IS BACK IT'LL REIGNITE MY OBSESSION WITH CONNOR/COLIVER AND I'LL FINISH THEN


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